Chapter 3
Edward Quan ·
12
Chu Cảnh Hoài seemed surprised and frowned slightly.
Trần Tông Nguyệt continued, “In Hong Kong, we have a saying: cherish your wife, and prosperity will follow.”
“Cảnh Hoài, don’t squander your own good fortune.”
His gaze brushed over me before settling on Chu Cảnh Hoài.
The latter smiled and nodded.
“I’ll remember that, Fourth Brother. But your Mandarin seems to have become much more fluent lately.”
Mrs. Chu joined in, laughing.
“We rarely see Tông Nguyệt like this.”
I couldn’t begin to untangle what I felt.
Every word he said seemed to be reminding Chu Cảnh Hoài to treat me well.
But he didn’t know that my husband already loved someone else.
Ours was a marriage in name only. We were strangers, and the ice between us would never thaw.
After dinner, Trần Tông Nguyệt prepared to leave for the airport.
Chu Cảnh Hoài held my hand as we saw him out.
Beijing’s winter cold was piercing.
I clutched my shawl tight beside my husband, still shivering, and sneezed twice.
He didn’t notice.
Up ahead, Trần Tông Nguyệt suddenly stopped.
He turned. His gaze seemed to rest on me for half a second.
Then he said to Chu Cảnh Hoài, “It’s cold out here. Go back inside, both of you.”
“But we couldn’t possibly…”
His voice remained calm, but allowed no argument.
“There’s no need. Go in.”
Chu Cảnh Hoài could only stop.
Trần Tông Nguyệt turned again and walked toward the car.
13
Only then did I dare let my eyes follow him.
Fine snow had begun to fall.
In his black coat, he looked tall and slender, his back perfectly straight.
He reminded me of green bamboo standing firm against wind and snow.
Before getting into the car, he looked back once.
Through the drifting whiteness, his handsome face was still utterly composed.
In that world of black and white, the red coral at his wrist made my heart ache.
I didn’t know whether he was looking at me.
A moment later, he bent and got into the car.
Beside me, Chu Cảnh Hoài exhaled softly.
“Let’s go inside too. The snow’s getting heavier.”
I slowly lifted my gaze and watched the car recede.
I knew the snow would bury everything that had happened between Trần Tông Nguyệt and me—that shadowed, unspoken past we could never bring into the light.
And perhaps we would never meet again.
14
Back in our room, Chu Cảnh Hoài did something unusual. He didn’t leave at once.
He watched me take off my shawl and sit at the dressing table to remove my jewelry.
Then he came up behind me and gently took my shoulders.
“Trăn Trăn, you look beautiful today.”
I said nothing and went on removing my earrings.
He bent closer, speaking softly into my ear.
“Don’t you want a child?”
I could only find it laughable.
So this was how cheap and shallow his supposedly devoted love really was.
Before I could speak, his phone rang.
It was Khương Lai, the first love he cherished.
He went onto the balcony to answer.
By the time he came back, I had his coat ready.
His expression darkened.
After a long pause, he said, “Aren’t you going to ask me to stay?”
I lowered my eyes and offered him the coat.
“Go on. She’s crying so hard. You wouldn’t want anything to happen.”
He snatched it from me and slammed the door on his way out.
Mrs. Chu was furious, of course, but couldn’t bear to take it out on her son.
Instead, she found some minor fault with me and gave me another scolding.
That night, I developed a high fever.
I was ill for a week.
15
During that week, Chu Cảnh Hoài came home only once, staying less than half an hour before leaving again.
His indifference no longer stirred anything in me.
My spirits were low, though, and my recovery was slow.
When the sky finally cleared after the snow, I felt strong enough to go for a walk.
Without meaning to, I found myself in the back garden.
The gate to the courtyard where Trần Tông Nguyệt had stayed stood ajar.
From inside came the faint sound of sweeping.
I remained outside for a long time.
At last the gate opened, and the young man who had attended him closely said respectfully, “Miss Hứa, Mr. Trần left this for you.”
He offered me a small brocade box.
Surprised, I reached out to take it.
Inside were a bank card and a folded note.
I recognized the card at once.
I had put it beneath his pillow on our last night together.
It held all my savings: one million yuan.
The note contained just two short lines.
“Hứa Trăn: If you need me, call. I’ll come to Beijing and take you away.”
Below were his signature and a phone number.
I stared at those words.
Then the tears began to fall.
16
When Grandmother Chu was close to death, the whole family came to the hospital.
Her bed was surrounded by dutiful children and grandchildren.
During a rare lucid moment, she asked for fresh fish soup. Instead, I disgraced myself by vomiting at her bedside.
The family immediately called for doctors and nurses to examine me.
When they learned I was pregnant, the old lady was beside herself with joy.
She declared on the spot that all the shares in her name would go to Chu Cảnh Hoài and her unborn great-grandchild.
Mrs. Chu’s attitude changed completely too. She held my hand with sudden affection and wouldn’t let go.
The room filled with happy voices.
Only Chu Cảnh Hoài reacted differently. At the news of my pregnancy, he was so stunned that he dropped his cup and shattered it.
Afraid he would upset his grandmother, his mother hurriedly told him to take me back to our room to rest.
The instant the door shut, he seized me by the throat and slammed me against it.
“Hứa Trăn, which fucking bastard have you let touch you?”
His eyes were bloodshot, his fury almost splitting them apart.
I, by contrast, was perfectly calm.
“Go on. Make more noise. Let Grandmother hear you and take back her shares and property.”
“Then let this filthy little secret spread all over Beijing. We’ll see who’s humiliated in the end.”
I understood his character well enough.
Sure enough, his grip eased.
I took his wrist, forced his hand away, and rubbed my reddened neck.
Only then did I give him a small smile.
“I remember very clearly. You told me to find my own way to have a child, didn’t you?”
17
“Hứa Trăn…”
Chu Cảnh Hoài stared in shock, as though meeting her for the first time.
The wife he had thought dull, inferior, obedient as a puppet had actually dared do something this unthinkable.
More startling still was what he felt beneath his anger and disbelief: resentment and jealousy.
What man had made Hứa Trăn blossom like this?
She was his wife.
The child in her belly should have been his too.
Just then, his phone rang.
Khương Lai.
When he answered, I heard her faint, tearful voice on the other end.
“Cảnh Hoài… I think I’m pregnant…”